Thaw
by magicalwolfgirl
Summary: Sequel to Frozen. The longing, once Rachel and Quinn found each other, they must fight to stay together. For Quinn, this means dealing with her past as a wolf. For Rachel, it means embracing her no longer certain future. For new wolf Lauren, it means dealing with her demons. Life is a struggle between two forces, wolf and human, with love baring both sides as well.
1. Teaser

**____****authors note:****as promised, here is the teaser, I have also posted it separately as part of Thaw but I decided to post it here for those of you who only get updates from here. I got really bored in class and I know it's rally short but it is meant to tease and get you guys interested so I don't feel so bad. I promise to write as much as I can, you are welcome to review or pm me as an attempt to get me to write faster, in fact, I welcome it. Enjoy, again I don't own any of the characters as they belong to RIB and FOX nor do I own plot as it belongs to Maggie Stiefvater, author of the Shiver, Linger, Forever series among other books. I and lealbee (my beta) do own any and all mistakes that escaped us.**

**_Thaw_**

**_Teaser_**

**The longing.**

Once Rachel and Quinn had found each other, they knew that they must fight to stay together. For Quinn, this means a reckoning with her werewolf past. For Rachel, it means facing a future that is less and less certain.

**The loss.**

Into their world, comes a new wolf named Lauren, whose past is full of hurt and danger. She is wrestling with her own demons, embracing the life of a wolf while denying the ties of being human.

**The thaw.**

For Rachel, Quinn and Lauren, life is a constant struggle between two forces–wolf and human–with love baring its two sides as well. It is harrowing and euphoric, freeing and entrapping, enticing and alarming. As their world falls apart, love is what lingers.

But… will it be enough?

* * *

_Rache_

This is the story of a girl who used to be a wolf and a girl who was becoming one.

Just a few months ago, it was Quinn who was the mythical creature. Hers was the disease we couldn't cure. Hers was the goodbye that meant the most. She had the body that was a mystery, too strange and wonderful and terrifying to comprehend.

But now it is spring. With the heat, the remaining wolves will soon be falling out of their wolf pelts and back into their human bodies.

Quinn stays Quinn and Lauren stays Lauren. It's only me who's not firmly in my own skin.

Last year, this was what I wanted. I had a lot of reasons to long to be part of the wolf pack that lives in the woods behind my house. But now, instead of me watching the wolves, waiting for one of them to come to me, they are the ones watching me, waiting for me to come to them.

Their eyes, human eyes in wolf skulls, remind me of water: the clear blue of water reflecting the spring sky, the brown of a brook churning with rainfall, the green of the lake in summer as the algae begins to bloom, the grey of a snow-choked river.

It used to be only Quinn's hazel eyes that watched me from between the rain-soaked birches, but now, I feel the weight of the entire pack's gaze. The weight of the entire pack's gaze. The weight of things unknown, things unsaid. The wolves in the woods are strangers now that I know the secret of the pack.

Beautiful, alluring – but strangers nonetheless. An unknown human past hides behind each pair of eyes. Quinn is the only one I ever truly knew and I have her beside me now. I want this, my hand in Quinn's hand and her cheek resting against my neck.

But my body betrays me. Now, I am the unknown, the unpredictable. This is a love story. I never knew there were so many kinds of love or that love could make people do so many different things

I never knew there were so many ways to say goodbye.

* * *

_ So denied so I lied are you the now or never kind_

_ In a day and a day love I'm gonna be gone for good again_  
_ Are you willing to be had are you cool with just tonight_  
_ Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well_

_ Here's to the nights we felt alive_  
_ Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry_  
_ Here's to goodbye _  
_ Tomorrow's gonna come too soon_

_ Put your name on the line along with place and time_  
_ Wanna stay not to go I wanna ditch the logical_  
_ Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well_

_ Here's to the nights we felt alive_  
_ Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry_  
_ Here's to goodbye _  
_ Tomorrow's gonna come too soon_

_ All my time is froze in motion _  
_ Can't I stay an hour or two or more_  
_ Don't let me let you go_  
_ Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well_

_ Here's to the nights we felt alive_  
_ Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry_  
_ Here's to goodbye _  
_ Tomorrow's gonna come too soon_

* * *

**Song is ****"Here's To The Night"~ ****Eve 6**


	2. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note: _Hey everyone. I know it's been a while and that sucks and I'm really sorry for that. As way of explanation, I will say that I have been obsessed with Tales of Graces f of late as well as summer school which will be ending in 2 weeks (YES!). I had been done this chapter for awhile but I wanted to update this and Inner Passions at the same time but my beta, lealbee hasn't responded in about a week so I had to buckle down and look over this myself. I don't own the characters (they belong to RIB and FOX), the plot (belongs to Maggie Stiefvater of the Shiver-Linger-Forever series as well as other novels) and various mentioned songs or other things that you might know of such as Wikipedia, Merck Manual, etc. I do, however, own the mistakes that are seen here as this is unbeta-ed. **

**All the readers out there, thanks for sticking with me and I hope that you continue to enjoy these. I would love to hear from you but if it's going to be something on the negative side please say it kindly, I am a little sensitive and quite insecure. :P (lealbee and CharmedTheVampireSlayer would know what I'm talking about) Just a warning, some swearing will be in this chapter, I blame Puck mostly. **

**Also if you guys have any suggestions, please let me know and I'll consider it. Someone (a guest) asked about "saving" Sue, she's a wolf now and she won't be able to change back. Sue gave herself up to get Quinn to go to the clinic to get saved. Quinn was an exception because she can change to human form when she's a wolf, she's special in that sense and even she can't do it on demand (most of the time).**

**Finally, the origami thing here, if you don't know the significance of the origami crane, search up Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes by Eleanor Coerr (Simple but still a good and tearjerk-y story) or simply 1000 origami crane significance. **

**_Reviewers:_**

**Musicwolf89: **Thanks :) I hope this one is to your liking.

**RachelBarbraBerry:** Thanks, I'm sorry about Lauren but I hope that you will grow to like her. I think she'll probably start out misunderstood and unlikable but she'll grow on you, I hope. Please don't love-hate me too much :/ I like the love part though :)

**Lucky:** Thanks :) I hope you'll like it as much as Frozen :)

**Sanekittens:**Yea, Thaw :), also thanks for making my 100th reviewer back on Frozen :) It made my day :)

**HarleyQuinnDavidson: **Thanks, hope you continue to enjoy :)

Note (July 8, 2014): beta-ed version

* * *

**_Chapter 1_**

_Quinn_

Lima, Ohio looked different when you knew you'd be human for the rest of your life. Before, it had been a place that existed outside of your life; outside of your world. Before, it had been a place that existed only in the heat of summer, concrete sidewalks and leaves curved up toward the sun, everything smelt of warm asphalt and dissipating truck exhaust. Now, as the spring branches shared seldom-seen frills of tender pink – it was where I belonged.

In the months since I'd lost my lupine skin, I'd tried to learn how to be a girl again. I'd gotten my old job back at the bookstore, it had now merged with a sheet music store. I was once again surrounded by new words, the sound of pages turning and by pianos, guitars, microphones and the sound of music. I'd traded my inherited SUV, full of the scent of Sue and my life with the wolves for a Volkswagen Golf, red, just big enough for me, Rachel and my guitar.

I tried not to flinch when I felt the cold rush in through a suddenly open door. I tried to remember I was no longer alone.

At night, Rachel and I crept into her room, and I folded myself against her body, breathing in the smell of my new life and matching my heartbeat to hers.

If my chest caught when I heard the howls of my wolf family in the wind, at least I had the balm of this simple, ordinary life to console me. I could look forward to years of Christmases with Rachel in my arms, the privilege of growing old in this unfamiliar skin of mine. I knew that. I had everything.

* * *

_Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you  
For a thousand years  
I'll love you for a thousand more_

_Time stands still  
Beauty in all she is  
I will be brave  
I will not let anything take away  
What's standing in front of me  
Every breath  
Every hour has come to this_

One step closer

* * *

I had started to bring my guitar with me to the bookstore. Business was slow, so hours would go by with no one to hear me singing my lyrics to the book-lined walls.

The little notebook Rachel had brought me was slowly filling with words. Every new date jotted at the top of a page was a victory over the disappearing winter.

Today was a day much like the ones before—wet morning streets still devoid of consumer life. Not long after I opened up the store, I was surprised to hear someone come in.

Leaning the guitar against the wall behind my stool, I looked up. "Hi, Lady Fabray. What have you and my Jewish American Princess been up to?" Noah said suavely.

It was strange to see him on his own, without the context of Rachel, and stranger still to see him here in the bookstore, surrounded by the soft reality of my cave of paperbacks and sheet music. The loss of his love the winter before had made his voice harder, his eyes sharper, than they'd been the first time I'd met him. He looked at me – a canny, blasé look that made me feel naïve. He hopped onto a chair, straddling it.

Rachel was too proper for that and was small enough to sit legs crossed on the chair. Noah saw my tea and took a sip before breathing out a long sigh. I looked at the violated tea. "Not much, we're just hanging out. What about you?"

He looked at me again, raising one eyebrow and pushing my tea back towards me. I pushed it back for him to finish, it seemed filled with meaning to drink from it after he did. He took my drink as if it was his to begin with, slouching into the back of the chair. I hunched on my stool behind the register like a vulture. The wall clock counted off the seconds.

Outside, heavy white clouds that still looked like winter hung low over the street. I watched a drop of rain streak past the window, only to bounce, frozen, on the sidewalk. My mind drifted to the lyrics in my head;_ "I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules. But baby I broke them all for you."_

Finally, I leaned over and pressed the PLAY button on the sound system tucked beneath the counter, restarting the music overhead.

"I've been seeing wolves near Finn's," Noah said. He shook the liquid in the cup. "This tastes like shit."

"It's good for you," I said. I fervently wished he hadn't taken it; the hot liquid felt like a safety net in this cold weather. Even though I didn't need it anymore, I still felt more firmly human with it in my hand. "How close?"

He shrugged. Puck lived near the Hudson-Hummel house so he could watch from his house. "From the third floor, I can see them in the woods. Clearly they have no sense of self-preservation, or they'd avoid Burt. Who is not a fan." His eyes found the irregular scar on my neck.

"I remember," I said. Noah had no reason to be a fan, either. "If any of them wander your way as humans, you'll let me know, right? Before you let Burt shoot, stuff and then stick them in his foyer."

Noah shot me a withering look that could have turned some to stone. "So, are you living in the dog house on your own?"

I realized that he was talking about Sue's place which I wasn't. I knew I should be there, welcoming back the other pack members as they fell out of their winter wolves and into their human forms, looking out for the four new wolves that had to be getting ready to shift, but the other part of me hated the idea of rattling around there with no hope of ever seeing Sue again.

Plus, it wasn't home, anyway. Rachel was.

* * *

_All of these lines across my face  
Tell you the story of who I am  
So many stories of where I've been  
And how I got to where I am  
But these stories don't mean anything  
When you've got no one to tell them to  
It's true... I was made for you_

* * *

"Yes," I answered him.

"Liar," he shot back with a smirk. "Rachel is a better liar than you, surprisingly. Tell me where the medical books are. Don't look so surprised – I'm actually here for a reason."

"I didn't doubt that you were here for a reason," I said, then pointed to the corner. "I just had yet to ascertain what reason was."

Noah slid off the stool and followed my directions. "I'm here because sometimes Wikipedia just won't cut it."

"You could write a book about the things that you can't find online," I said, able to breathe again now that he had gotten up. I started to fold a duplicate invoice into an origami crane.

"You should know," Noah said. "As you were the one who was once an imaginary creature."

I made a face and kept folding my crane. The bar code of the invoice patterned one of its wings with monochromatic stripes, making the unmarked wing look larger. I picked up a pen, about to line the other wing and make it perfect, but changed my mind at the last moment. "What are you looking for, anyway? We don't have much in the way of real medical books. Just self-help and holistic stuff, mostly."

Noah, crouched beside the shelf, stated "I don't know. I'll know when I see it. What's that thing called...that doorstop of a book? The one that covers everything that can go wrong with a person?"

"_Candide_," I said. But there wasn't anyone in the shop who understood that joke, so after a brief pause, I suggested, "_The Merck Manual_?"

"That's it." My fingers tapped a quick medley on the keyboard as I checked the online directory of the store, "We don't have it in stock. I can order it." I turned to face him and he nodded his consent.

I nodded back and continued, "It's not cheap as a new book, but I can probably find you a used copy. Conveniently, diseases tend to stay the same." I threaded a string through my paper crane's back and got up onto the counter to hang it above me. "It's a bit of overkill, isn't it, unless you're planning to become a doctor?"

"I was considering it," was his answer. He stated it in such a stark way that I didn't realize he was confiding in me until the door went _ding_ again, admitting another customer.

"Be with you in a second," I said, standing on my tiptoes on the counter to toss the loop of string over the light fixture above me. "Let me know if you need anything," I added to the newcomer.

Though there was only a heartbeat's pause, I was aware that Noah had gone silent in a way that shouted the silence to me. I lowered my arms to my side, hesitating.

"Don't let me stop you," the newcomer said, voice even and overwhelmingly professional. "I'll wait."

Something in the tone of his voice made me lose my taste for whimsy, so I turned around and saw a police officer standing by the counter, looking up at me. From my vantage point, I could see everything he had in his possession: gun, a fancy-looking yet tiny radio, some pepper spray, a pair of handcuffs, cell phone.

When you have secrets, even if they're not secrets of the illegal sort, seeing a police officer in your workplace has a terrible effect on you.

I slowly climbed down behind the counter and said, with a halfhearted gesture to my crane, "It wasn't working out very well, anyway. Can I…help you with something?" I hesitated on the question, since I knew he wasn't here to talk about books or sheet music. I felt my pulse, hard and fast, pounding in my neck. Puck had disappeared, and for the most part, the store was empty.

"Actually, if you aren't busy, I'd like to talk with you for a moment," the officer said politely. "You _are_ Quinn Fabray, right?"

I nodded.

"I'm Officer Howell," he introduced. "I'm working on the Kurt Hummel case."

Kurt. My stomach felt tight. Kurt, one of Rachel's closest friends, had been unwillingly bitten last year and had spent the last few months as a wolf in Lima Woods. His family thought he'd run away. Rachel should've been here. Lying was more her thing than mine, I liked to run from my problems while she at least had her acting to fall on.

"Oh," I said. "Kurt."

I was nervous about the cop being here, asking questions, but oddly enough, I was more nervous because Puck, who already knew the truth, was listening. I could imagine him lurking somewhere behind a shelf, arching an eyebrow scornfully when a lie fell flat on my unpracticed lips.

"You knew him, correct?" The officer had a friendly look on his face. But, how friendly could someone be when he ended a question with _correct_?

"A little," I acknowledge. "I met him in town a few times. But I don't go to his school."

"Where do you go to school?" Again, Howell's voice was completely pleasant and conversational. I tried to tell myself that his questions felt suspicious only because I had something to hide.

"I was homeschooled."

"My younger brothers and sister were, too," Howell said. "Drove my parents crazy. So you do know Rachel Berry, though, correct?" Again with the '_correct?' s_tuff. I was wondering if he was only going to ask questions that he already knew the answers to just to get a baseline or something. I was again acutely aware of Puck, silently listening.

"Yes," I said. "She's my girlfriend."

It was probably a bit of information that they didn't have but didn't need anyway, however, it was something I wanted Puck to hear for some reason. I was surprised to see Howell smile.

"I can tell," he said. Though his smile seemed genuine, it made me stiffen, wondering if I was being played. "Rachel and Kurt were good friends," Howell continued. "Can you tell me the last time you saw Kurt? I don't need an exact date, but as close as possible would be really helpful." Now he had a little blue notebook flipped open and a pen hovering over it.

"Um." I considered. I'd seen Kurt, snow dusting his white fur, just a few weeks earlier, but I didn't think that would be the most helpful thing to tell the man. "I saw him downtown. Here, actually. In front of the store. Rachel and I were killing some time and Kurt was here with someone else Rachel knew, Jesse. But that must have been months ago. November? October? Right before he disappeared."

"Do you think Rachel has seen him more recently?"

I tried to hold his gaze. "I'm pretty sure that's the last time she saw Kurt as well."

"It's really difficult for a teen to manage on his or her own," Howell said, and this time I felt sure that he knew all about me and that his words were loaded with meaning just for me—drifting without Sue. "Really difficult for a runaway. There are lots of reasons that kids run away, and judging from what I heard from Kurt's teachers and family, depression might have had something to do with it. A lot of times, these teens just run away because they need to get out of the house, but they don't know how to survive in the world. So sometimes, they only run as far away as the next house over. Sometimes –"

I interrupted him before he could get any further. "Officer…Howell? I know what you're trying to say, but Kurt isn't at Rachel's house. Rachel hasn't been slipping him food or helping him out. I wish, for Kurt's sake, that the answer was that easy. I'd love it for Rachel's sake too. Like you said, they were really close. I'd love to tell you that I knew exactly where Kurt was. But we're wondering when he's going to come back just as much as you are."

I wondered if this was how Rachel spilled out her most useful lies – by manipulating them into something she could have believed.

"You understand I had to ask," he said wryly.

"I know."

"Well, thanks for your time, and please let me know if you hear anything." Howell started to turn but then he paused and asked, "What do you know about the woods?"

I was frozen. I was a motionless wolf hidden in the trees, praying not to be seen. "Excuse me?" I said faintly.

"Kurt's family said he took a lot of photos of the wolves in the woods, and that Rachel is also interested in them. Do you share that interest?" I could only nod wordlessly. "Do you think there's any chance he would try to make a go of it out there by himself, instead of running to another city?"

Panic clawed inside my head, as I imagined the police and Kurt's family crawling over the acres and acres of woods, searching the trees and the pack's shed for evidence of human life. And possibly finding it. I tried to keep my voice light.

"Kurt is a diva, definitely not the outdoorsy type. I sincerely doubt it."

Howell nodded to himself. "Well, thanks again," he said.

"No problem," I said. "Good luck."

The door _dinged _behind him; as soon as I saw his squad car pull away from the curb, I let my elbows fall onto the counter and pushed my face into my hands. _Good Lord._

"Nicely done, Lady Fabray," Noah said, rising from amongst the nonfiction books with a scuffling sound on the carpet. "You hardly sounded psychotic at all."

I didn't reply. All of the things the cop could've asked about were running through my head, leaving me feeling more nervous now than when he was standing right in front of me. He could have asked about Sue, about the three missing kids from Canada or about Finn.

"What is your problem?" Puck said, a lot closer this time. He slide the stack of books onto the counter with a crumpled pile of bills on top. "You handled it well. They're just doing routine stuff, it's not about you really. Fuck, your hands are shaking."

"I'd make a terrible criminal," I replied – but that wasn't why my hands were trembling. If Rachel had been here, I would have told the truth: that I haven't spoken to a cop since what had happened with my parents and they had changed while I sat there bleeding into the tub. Just seeing Officer Howell had dredged up a thousand things I hadn't thought about in years.

Noah teased, "Good thing, too, because you aren't doing anything criminal. Stop freaking out, and do your music-sheet-book-girl thing. I need the receipt."

I rang up his books and bagged them, glancing at the empty street every so often. My head was a jumbled-up mess of police uniforms, wolves in the woods, and voices I hadn't heard for a decade. As I handed him the bag, the old scars on my wrists throbbed with buried memories.

For a moment, Noah looked like he was going to say something and then he just shook his head and said, "Some people are really not cut out for deception. You might be able to fool some people, but I know you now. See you later, Quinn."

* * *

_Lauren_

I have had no thought other than, _Stay alive._ And to have had only that thought, each day, was heaven. We wolves ran through the sparse pine trees, our paws light on ground damp with the memory of snow. We were close together, running with our shoulders bumping against one another, jaws snapping at each other playfully, bodies ducking beneath and leaping over one another. It was like fish in a river, impossible to tell where one wolf began and another ended.

Moss rubbed to bare dirt and markings on trees guided us through the woods; I could smell the rotting, growing smell of the lake before I could hear the splashing of water. One of the wolves sent an image; _ducks gliding smoothly onto the cold blue surface of the lake._ From another;_ A deer and her fawn bouncing through the woods to get a drink._

For me, there was nothing beyond what was happening at the moment, these traded images and this silent, powerful bond.

And then, suddenly, for the first time in months, I remembered that, once, I'd had fingers. I stumbled, falling out of the pack, my shoulders bunching and twitching. The wolves wheeled, some of them doubling back to encourage me to rejoin them, but I could not follow. I twisted on the ground, slimy spring leaves pasted to my skin, the heat of the day clogged in my nostrils. My fingers turned over the fresh black earth, jamming it beneath nails suddenly too short to defend me, smearing it in eyes that now saw in brilliant colour.

I was Lauren again, and spring had come too soon.

* * *

_I wanna hide the truth_

_I wanna shelter you_

_But with the beast inside_

_There's nowhere we can hide_

_No matter what we breed_

_We still are made of greed_

_This is my kingdom come_

_This is my kingdom come_

_When you feel my heat_

_Look into my eyes_

_It's where my demons hide_

_It's where my demons hide_

_Don't get too close_

_It's dark inside_

_It's where my demons hide_

_It's where my demons hide_

* * *

_Noah_

The day the cop came into the store was the first day I had ever heard Rachel complain of a headache. It probably doesn't sound like much, but since I had met Rachel, she had never mentioned so much as a runny nose. Also, I was something of an expert on headaches. They were a hobby of mine, albeit a new one.

After watching Quinn's clumsy dance with the cop, I headed back to school, which by this time was kind of stupid. The teachers already thought I would be a Lima loser especially since I had a terrible attendance record but unlike what everyone except Rachel and Quinn thought about me, I was smart and it showed in tests although I would do shit in group projects simply because I didn't want to work with anyone other than Rachel and if they forced me then I wouldn't do anything. I just didn't care what they thought about me.

The agreement was this: I'd come to class and they'd let me do what I wanted to do, as long as I didn't corrupt the other students.

So the first thing I did when I got to Spanish was dutifully bring out my Spanish textbook and notes and undutifully pull out the books I'd bought that morning.

One of them was an illustrated encyclopedia of diseases – it was a big, dusty-smelling book dating back to 1985. The book was probably one of the first books _The Crooked Shelf and Five Bars_ had stocked. While Mr. Schuester outlined what we were supposed to be doing, I flipped through the pages, looking for the most gruesome images. There was a photograph of someone with porphyria, someone else with seborrheic dermatitis, and an image of roundworms in action that made my stomach turn over, surprising me.

Then I flipped to the _M_ section. My fingers ran down the page to _meningitis, bacterial. _The back of my nose stung as I read the entire section —Causes. Symptoms, Diagnosis, Treatment, and lastly, Prognosis.

Mortality rate of untreated bacterial meningitis: 100 percent. Mortality rate of treated bacterial meningitis: 10 to 30 percent. I didn't need to look it up; I already I had already learned all I needed to know about it because I had read all the online journals about the newest treatments and unusual cases.

The seat next to me creaked as someone sat down; I didn't bother to close the book as she rolled over in her chair, Rachel has worn the same perfume for forever. Or, knowing Rachel, used the same shampoo.

"Noah," Rachel said, in a relatively low voice, which was unusual in itself – other students were chattering now as the project was underway. "That's positively morbid – even for the new you."

"Bite me," I replied.

"You need therapy," she said jokingly.

"I'm getting it." I looked up at her. "I'm just trying to find out how meningitis worked. I don't think it's morbid. Don't you want to know how Quinn's little problem worked?"

Rachel shrugged and turned back and forth in the swivel-back chair, her chestnut hair falling across her slightly flushed tan cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the floor. She looked uncomfortable. "It's over now."

"Sure," I said.

"If you're going to be cranky, I'm not going to sit next to you," Rachel warned. "I don't feel good, anyway. I'd rather be home."

"I just said _sure_," I said. "That's not cranky, Rachel. Believe me, if you want me to bring out the inner – "

"Rachel? Noah?" Mr. Schuester appeared at my shoulder and looked at my closed textbook and Rachel's open to the wrong page. "Last time I checked, this was a Spanish class, not a social hour."

Rachel looked up earnestly at him. "Do you think I could go to the nurse? My head – I think I have a sinus thing coming on or something."

Mr. Schuester looked down at her flushed tan cheeks and pensive expression, and nodded his permission. "I want a note back from the office," he told her, after Rachel thanked him and stood up. She didn't say anything to me as she left, just knocked on the back of my chair with her knuckles.

"And you – " Mr. Schuester said. Then he dropped his gaze down to the encyclopedia and its still-open page,. He never finished his sentence. Instead he just nodded and walked away. I turned back to my extracurricular study of death and disease. Because no matter what Rachel thought, I knew that in Lima, it's never over.

* * *

_Rachel_

By the time Quinn got home from the store that evening, I was making New Year's resolutions at the kitchen table. I'd been making New Year's resolutions ever since I could write and talk. Most years, it was related to Broadway or singing or dancing or writing music. Every year on Christmas, I'd sit down at the kitchen table under the dim yellow light, hunched over in a argyle sweater because of the draft from the glass door to the deck, and I'd write my goals for the year in a plain black Moleskin journal I'd bought for myself.

And every year on Christmas Eve, I'd sit down in the exact same place and open the exact same book to a new page and write down what I'd accomplished in the previous twelve months. Previously, the two lists where almost always the same.

Last Christmas, though, I hadn't made any resolutions. I'd spent the month trying not to look through the glass door at the woods, trying not to think about the wolves and Quinn. Sitting at the kitchen table and planning for the future had seemed like a cruel pretense more than anything else.

But now that I had Quinn and a new year, that black journal, shelved neatly next to my career books and memoirs, haunted me. I had dreams about sitting at the kitchen table in an argyle sweater, dreams where I kept on writing and writing my resolutions and my own music and never fill the page.

Today, waiting for Quinn to get home, I couldn't stand it anymore. I got the journal from my shelf and headed for the kitchen. Before I sat down, I took two more ibuprofen, the two the school nurse had given me had pretty much killed the headache I'd had earlier, but I wanted to make sure it didn't make a reappearance.

I had just clicked on the pink flower-shaped light over the table and uncapped my purple pen when the phone rang. I stood and leaned over the counter to reach it. "Hello?"

"Rachel, hi."

It took me a moment to realize it was my dad's voice. I was unused to hearing it this way, pressed and fuzzy, over the phone lines. "Is something wrong?" I asked.

"What? No. Nothing's wrong. I was just calling to let you know that your daddy and I will be home around nine from Will and Emma's."

"_Okay,_" I drawled out. I already knew this; Daddy had told me this morning when we parted ways, me to school, him to the studio.

A pause. "Are you alone?"

So _that's _what this call was about. For some reason, the question made my throat tighten. "No," I said. "Barbra is here. Would you like to talk to her?"

Dad acted as if I hadn't answered. "Is Quinn there?"

I felt like answering yes, just to see what he would say, but instead, I told him the truth, my voice coming out clear and practiced, because of my voice acting classes. "No. I'm just doing homework."

While dad and daddy knew Quinn was my girlfriend – Quinn and I had made no secret of our relationship – they still didn't know what was really going on. All the nights Quinn stayed over, they thought I was sleeping alone. They had no idea of my hopes for our future. They thought it was a simple, innocent, bound-to-end teenage relationship. It wasn't that I didn't want them to know. Just that their obliviousness had its advantages, too, for now.

"Okay," Dad said. There was an unspoken commendation in his answer, an approval of me being alone with my homework. This is what Rachels did in the evening, and heaven forbid I should break the mold. "Planning a quiet night?"

I heard the front door open and Quinn's footsteps in the hall. "Yes," I replied as she walked into the living room, guitar in case in hand.

"Good. Well, see you later on," Dad said. "Happy studying." We hung up at the same time.

I watched Quinn silently shed her faux-leather coat and go straight for the study. "Hi, beautiful," I said when she returned holding her guitar minus the case. She smiled at me, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "You seem tense."

She crashed down onto the sofa, only half sitting, and threw her fingers across the strings of the guitar. A discordant chord rang out in response. "Puck came to the store today," she said.

"Really? What did he want?"

"Just some books. And to tell me that he'd seen wolves by Finn's. My mind instantly slid toward Burt Hummel and to the wolf hunt he'd led in the woods and when Noah's father had come to rejoin the hunt. From Quinn's trouble expression, I knew her thoughts mirrored mine. "That's not good."

"No," she replied. Her fingers moved restlessly over the guitar strings, effortlessly and instinctively picking out some beautiful minor chord. "Neither was the cop that came in."

I set my purple pen down and leaned across the table toward her. "_What?_ What did a cop want?"

She hesitated. "Kurt. He wanted to know if I thought he might be living in the woods."

"What?" I asked again, my skin prickling. There was no way that someone could guess that. No way. "How could he know?"

"He didn't think he was a wolf, obviously, but I think he was hoping we were hiding him or that he was living nearby and we were helping him or something. I said he didn't strike me as the outdoorsy type and he thanked me and left."

"Wow." I leaned back in my chair and considered. It was really only surprising that they didn't question Quinn earlier. They'd already talked to me soon after Kurt "ran away" and had probably only just recently made the connection between Quinn and me. I shrugged. "They're just being thorough. I don't think there's anything for us to worry about. I mean, he reappears when he reappears, right? How long do you think it will be until the new wolves start to change back into humans?"

Quinn didn't reply right away. "They won't stay human at first. They'll be really unstable. It depends how warm the day is. It varies from person to person, too, sometimes a lot. It's like how on certain days some people wear sweaters when other people can wear T-shirts and still feel comfortable – different reactions to the same temperature. But I guess it's possible some might have already shifted into human form once this year."

I imagined Kurt darting through the woods in his new wolf body, before pulling my mind back to what Quinn was saying. "Really? Already? So someone might have seen him?"

Quinn shook her head. "He'll only have a few minutes as a human in this weather; I really doubt anyone could've seen him. It's just…it's just a practice run for after."

She was lost to me then, her hazel eyes someplace far away. Maybe remembering what it was like for her back when she was a new wolf. I inadvertently shuddered; thinking about Quinn and her parents always got to me. A nasty chill clenched in my stomach until Quinn went back to playing her guitar.

For several long minutes, she walked her fingers up and down chords and when it became obvious that she was done speaking for the moment, I dropped my gaze back to my resolutions. My mind wasn't really on them, though; it was circling the idea of young Quinn back and forth because of what her parents had inadvertently done to her. I played around with song lyrics in the margin of the page.

Finally, Quinn said, "What are you doing? It looks suspiciously creative."

"Slightly creative," I said. I looked at her, eyebrow raised in my version of the Fabray eyebrow raise, until she smiled.

Strumming a chord, she sang, "_Has Rachel quieted herself of numbers and given herself to song?" _

"That doesn't even rhyme." I cry indignantly.

"_Abandoned all her algebra and taken to penning verbs?" _Quinn finished. I made a face at her.

"_Words _and _verbs _don't really rhyme. I'm writing my New Year's resolutions."

"They _do _rhyme," she insisted. Bringing her guitar over to the table and sitting across from me – the guitar made a low musical _thump _as it lightly struk the edge of the table – she added, "I'm going to watch. I've never written any resolutions before. I'd like to see what organization in progress looks like." She drew the open journal across the table towards herself, her eyebrows tipping low over her eyes. "What's this?" she asked. "Resolution number three: _NYADA – prep songs for audition in two years_. You've already picked a _college_?"

I slid the journal back to my side of the table and turned quickly to a blank page. "I did. And I was in the process of picking and practicing an audition song. But then, I got distracted by this cute girl who turned into a wolf. This is the first year I haven't made all of my resolutions, and it's entirely your fault. I need to get back on track."

Smile slightly faded, Quinn scraped her chair back and rested her guitar against the wall. From the countertop next to the phone she got a green pen and an index card. "Okay, then. Let's make new ones."

I wrote _Get a job. _She wrote _Keep loving my job. _I wrote _Stay madly in love_. She wrote _Stay human. _"Because I'm already and will always be madly in love," she said, looking at her index card instead of my face.

I kept looking at her, her eyes hidden behind her lashes until she lifted them back up to me. "So are you going to put _NYADA_ on there again?"

"Are you going to put a college one?" I asked back, keeping my voice light. The question felt loaded – we were edging into the first conversation that really addressed what life would look like this side of winter, now that Quinn could live a real life. I thought Quinn might pick NYU or Columbia in order to be near me but I wanted her to go to Yale.

"I asked first."

"Sure," I said, sounding glib rather than carefree. I scribbled down _Get into NYADA_ in a hand that looked completely different from the rest of my list. "Now, are you?" My heart was unexpectedly thrumming with something like panic.

But instead of answering, Quinn stood and went to the kitchen. I swivelled to watch her put on the teakettle. She brought down two mugs from the cabinet over the stove; for some reason, the familiarity of this easy movement filled me with affection. I fought the urge to go stand behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.

"Sue wanted me to go to law school," Quinn said, fingering the edge of my favourite robin's-egg-blue mug. "She never told me, but I heard her tell Ulrik."

"It's hard to imagine you as a lawyer," I said wryly. Quinn smiled a self-deprecating smile and shook her head. "I can't imagine myself as a lawyer, either. I can't imagine myself as anything yet, to tell you the truth. I know that sounds … terrible. Like I have no ambition, no drive." Again, her eyebrows drew together, pensive. "But this idea of a future is really new to me. Until this month, I never thought I could go to college. I don't want to rush into it." I must have been just staring at her, because she added, hurriedly, "but I don't want you to have to wait, Rachel. I don't want to keep you from going ahead for your dreams on Broadway because I can't make up my mind."

Feeling childish, I said. "We could go to New York together."

The kettle whistled. Quinn pulled it from the heat as she said, "I somehow doubt that the same college will be ideal for the next Broadway star and a girl in love with writing and moody poetry. I suppose it's possible." She stared out the kitchen window at the frozen gray wood. "I don't know if I can really leave, though. At all. Who will take care of the pack?"

"I thought that was why the new wolves were made," I said cautiously. The words sounded strange in my mouth. Callous. As if the pack dynamic were an artificial, engineered thing, which of course it wasn't. Nobody knew what the newcomers were like. Nobody but Sue, of course, but she wasn't talking.

Quinn rubbed her forehead, pressing her palm over her eyes; she did that a lot since her return. "Yeah, I know," she said. "I know that's what they're for."

"She would've wanted you to go," I said. "And I still think we could find a school together, or at least a school in the same city."

Quinn looked at me, her fingers still pressed into her temple as if she'd forgotten they were there. "I'd like that." She paused. "I'd really like – I'd like to meet the new wolves and see what kind of people they are, though. It'll make me feel better. Maybe I'll go after that. After I'm sure everything's taken care of here."

I put a jagged line through _get into NYADA_. "I'll wait for you," I said.

"Not forever," Quinn said.

"No, if you turn out to be useless, I'll go without you. Or better yet, you can come with me until you can figure things out." I tapped my purple pen against my full lips. "I think we should look around for the new wolves tomorrow. And Kurt. I'll call Noah and ask him about the wolves he saw in his woods."

"Sounds like a plan," Quinn said. She returned to her list at the table and added to it. Then she smiled and walked away to fetch milk for her tea.

I call to her, "Babe, can I see your card."

She responds, "Why do you think I left it face up for the world to see? I want you to read it, you kind of ruined the moment by asking me, silly."

I turned it to read it right side up. It read _Listen to Rachel_.

* * *

_Quinn_

Later, I thought of the things I could have added to the list of resolutions, things I'd wanted back before I realized what being a wolf meant for my future. Things like _write a novel _and _Find a band _and _Get a degree in obscure poetry in translation_ and _travel the world (with Rachel)_.

It felt indulgent and fanciful to be considering those things now after reminding myself for so long that they were impossible. I tried to imagine myself filling out a college application. Writing a synopsis. Tacking a sign that says DRUMMERS WANTED on the cork board opposite Sue's post office box, which I guess now belonged to me.

The words danced in my head, dazzling in their sudden nearness. I wanted to add them to my index card of resolutions, but I just … couldn't.

That night, while Rachel showered, I got out the card and looked at it again.

And I wrote: _Believe in my cure._

* * *

_You were insecure but I was so sure_  
_But I wanted you_  
_Yes I'm powerful, and a little girl_  
_But I wanted you_  
_So I told you so, wanted you to know_  
_We've just one life to live_

_And I told you all my dreams and fears_  
_And you looked at me and your eyes filled with tears_  
_And you said those three words I'd been waiting for_  
_You became a part of me, yeah_

_You're mine, for life_  
_And I'll be by your side_  
_We are entwined_  
_You're mine, for life,_  
_Hold me until we die,_  
_I'm yours and you are mine_

_I'm yours (I'm yours, I'm yours)_  
_You're mine (You're mine, you're mine)_  
_I'm yours (I'm yours, I'm yours)_  
_You're mine (You're mine, you're mine)_

_Now I'm so happy you found a place for me_  
_Boy you wanted me_  
_Some security and two heartbeats_  
_Boy you wanted me_  
_Then you told me so, wanted me to know_  
_You let the past go_

_And I told you all my dreams and fears_  
_And you looked at me and your eyes filled with tears_  
_And you said those three words I'd been waiting for_  
_You became a part of me, yeah_

_You're mine, for life_  
_And I'll be by your side_  
_We are entwined_  
_You're mine, for life,_  
_Hold me until we die,_  
_I'm yours and you are mine_

_I'm yours (I'm yours, I'm yours)_  
_You're mine (You're mine, you're mine)_  
_I'm yours (I'm yours, I'm yours)_  
_You're mine (You're mine, you're mine)_

_I'm yours, you're mine,_  
___I'm yours, you're mine_

* * *

Songs

Thousand Years ~ Christina Perri

The Story ~ Brandi Carlile - I prefer when Sara Ramirez sang it for the Grey's Anatomy musical episode mainly cuz I think she's pretty :) and I guess I like the acoustic-ness of it.

Demons ~ Imagine Dragons

You're Mine ~ Lea Michele


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's note: I really don't know who's still reading this by now due to lack of reviews but I know people are still following and favouriting which I appreciate, but I would love to get some feedback from you all. **

**Also, I apologize for my lack of updates. I know I said that summer might be more free for me but it turned out that it wasn't the case mainly due to summer school (which I did really well in) and work (teaching kids how to swim takes more work then it sounds like it does, mainly because it really causes me some anxiety and stress and because of the paperwork) **

**Anyway, it's back to school and that means the updates will continue to be spotty (no more or no less though), although I have the majority of the next chapter lined up because I wanted to get you all as much reading as I could before I disappeared off the face of the earth again because of the onslaught of work I am facing this semester (for any of you who have been talking to me or with me since the days of Frozen, I have graduated from university but I have decided to go back to college. I have a three year from Brock if you are curious and I am now doing an Early Childhood Education diploma at Seneca. My program is an apprenticeship program which means I'll be in the childcare system taking care of little ones and I have my own job on the side teaching swimming and lifeguarding. Add that to the club that I may be starting on campus as well as keeping my own personal fitness up by running and I am out of my mind busy.) **

**In any case, if you have an questions and concerns, feel free to leave a review or PM me.**

** I would also like to ask if anyone would like to see a bunch of M one shots (I was bouncing the idea off of one of my friends who I'lve met on here) in the Frozen verse. I obviously haven't started anything yet but I would be willing to give sex scenes or smut a try, I have no idea of how good they will be given that I haven't done any of it myself. Anyways, let me know if you guys would be interested and I wouldn't mind taking prompts or whatnot and I think I'm pretty interested in writing anything, I like a challenge!**

* * *

_**Chapter 2**_

_Lauren_

I was human. I was bleary, exhausted, confused. I didn't know where I was. I knew I'd lost more time since I'd last been awake; I must have shifted back to a wolf again. Groaning, I rolled onto my back, clenching and unclenching my muscles, working out kinks and testing my strength. The early morning forest was absolutely freezing, mist hanging in the air, turning everything light gold. Close to me, the damp trunks of pine trees jutted from the haze, black and severe. Within a few feet, they turned to pastel blue and then disappeared entirely in then disappeared entirely in the white fog.

I was lying in the damn mud; I could feel my shoulders coated and crackling with it. When I lifted my hand to brush off my skin, my fingers were coated in it as well – a thin, anemic clay that was the colour and consistency of baby poop. My hands stank like the lake, and sure enough, I could hear water slowly lapping very close to my left side.

I reach out a hand and felt more mud, then water on my fingertips. How did I get here? I remembered running with the pack, then shifting, but I couldn't remember making it to the shore. I must've shifted back again. To wolf, and then to human.

The logic of it – or rather, the lack of logic – was maddening. Sue had told me that the shifts would eventually get more controlled. But where was it, the control?

I lay there, my muscles starting to tremble, the cold pinching my skin, and I knew that I was going to shift back to a wolf soon. God, I was tired. Stretching my shaking hands above my head, I marveled at the smooth skin of my arms, most of the scarring from my former life was gone. I was being reborn in five-minute intervals.

I heard movement in the woods near me, and I turned my face towards where I thought it was coming from, my cheek against the ground, to see if it belonged to a threat. Close by, a white wolf watched me, halfway behind a tree, his coat tinted gold and pink in the rising sun. His green-grey-blue eyes, strangely pensive, met mine for a long moment. There was something about the way he was looking at me that felt unfamiliar. Human eyes without judgement or jealousy or pity or anger; just silent consideration. I didn't know how it made me feel.

"What are you looking at?" I snarled. Without a sound, he slid into the mist. My body jerked on its own accord, and my skin twisted into another form.

* * *

I didn't know how much I'd spent as a wolf this time. Was it minutes? Hours? Days? It was late morning. I didn't feel human but I wasn't a wolf either. I hovered somewhere in between, my mind skating from memory to present and back to memory again, past and present equally lucid.

Somehow my brain darted from my seventeenth birthday to the night my heart stopped beating at the wrestling ring at Canadian Nationals that were held in Toronto. And that's where it stayed. Not a day I would've chosen to relive.

This was who I was, before I was a wolf: I was Lauren Zizes and I was a national champion in wrestling. Outside, the Toronto day was cold enough to ice over puddles and choke you with your own frigid breath, but inside the gym it was hot as Hades, and it would be even hotter because of the crowd there to watch. And there was a hell of a crowd, all there to watch me work my magic. It was a huge deal, but it was a match I didn't want to wrestle, I had already qualified for internationals and this was an easy match. Recently, the wrestling matches were all that way, they all ran together until I could remember were matches where I had to pee the whole time or matches where I just obliterated the opponent. Even when I was wrestling in the rink, I was still chasing something – some idea of life and fame that I'd imagined for myself when I was sixteen – but I was losing interest in actually finding it.

While I was getting ready to get into the rink, some guy on the team, Jake, handed me some pills. "Lauren," he whispered in my ear, as if he knew me instead of just my name. "Lauren, this will make you stronger than anything else you may be taking."

"Dude," I said, shifting my duffle so that I wouldn't hit it on the rat's maze of walls on the way to the change room and gesturing to my body, "I don't take anything to get this body here."

He smiled wide, teeth tinted yellow in the dull light, like he knew a secret. He smelled like lemons. "Don't worry – I know what you need."

I almost laughed, but instead I turned away, shouldering my way through a half-closed door. I looked over Jake's brown faux-hawk to shout, "Sug, c'mon!" I dropped my gaze back to him, appreciating his muscular body, "Are _you_ on it?"

Jake ran a finger up my arm, tracing around my bicep and forearms which were flexed from holding on to my duffel bag with my gear. "I'd be doing more than just smiling at you if I was."

I smirked and turned away, in my pocket, my phone buzzed. Normally I would've let it go to voicemail but Jake standing two inches from me as he had chased after me when I walked away, gave me an incentive to interrupt the conversation that he was trying to initiate. "Yo," I say into the phone.

"Hey, hey, pretty lady!" chimed Sugar's excited voice, which is technically just what she sounded like all the time. "Are you ready to own this match?"

"Yeah, Sug. Doesn't mean I have to be bouncing up and down like you probably are though."

"Yeah, whatever. Hurry up. Coach is getting restless."

"Kay." I said, hanging up the phone and heading to our change room. Jake had reappeared in front of me and offered the baggie of pills again. I stared into his eyes and punched him in the face. "Forget it, you idiot. Look at this," I said, gesturing down my body. "This doesn't need anything that isn't natural." I stormed away, around Jake's prone form and once again headed to the change room.

The match in itself wasn't very exciting, I pinned the guy and busted his balls, not literally of course.

After the match, we all got changed, we were planning on going to Liam's house for a party. He was on the wrestling team along with us and we were going to celebrate. Well, Sugar, Matt and I were going to celebrate, everyone else either lost or barely won. The three of us easily carried the team. I had just gotten ready, when my phone in my pocket began to vibrate. I fished the phone out and put it against my ear. "Yo."

"Lauren, I'm glad I caught you."

It was Jones, my agent. Her voice was gritty and fast as always. "Listen to this: 'Toronto Trackers' Lauren Zizes takes the scene by force with her wrestling. This brilliant and talented young wrestler, thought by many to be losing her edge, especially with decision to wrestle against guys' – sorry, that's just what they said' – 'comes back stronger than ever beating numerous male wrestlers in her weight class, proving that her Olympic performance at 16 was not a fluke. The three – ' Are you listening, Lauren?"

"No," I said.

"Well you should. This is Maxwell Fry saying this," Jones said. When I didn't reply, she said, "Remember, Maxwell Fry, who called you a surly, overactive toddler who just pushed her weight around? That Maxwell Fry. Now you are golden. Total turnaround. You've arrived, girl!"

"Great," I said, and hung up on her. We headed to the party. There was a lot of booze, drugs and dancing. We drank and Jake came back again offering his pills.

"We'll have the whole bag. Tell Matt, he's the money of our threesome."

I guess we were all drunk but I was the one who wanted the pills and told Matt to pay for them. I guess what happened it was my fault. Or maybe it was Jake's, for not telling us exactly what they were, but it was a house party at Liam's, the biggest partier on our team. His house was the place the team went to find the new high before anyone knew how high it took you. Unnamed pills, brand-new powders, shining mysterious nectar in vials. It wasn't the worst thing I made Matt do. Before we headed home, Matt swallowed one of the pills with a beer while Sugar-my-body-is-hyped-up-enough-without-help watched him and drank green tea. I took a few of them with a swig of Powerade. I don't know how many.

I was feeling pretty bitter about the transaction by the time we were going to leave. Jake's stuff was letting me down – I was feeling absolutely nothing. We got into the car. Matt was in the backseat, high as a kite. But then it never took much to get Matt high. I was driving, it always took me the most work to get drunk but apparently, I was more hammered that night than I thought.

I landed us in the hospital, I had a brain injury, Sugar had busted up her legs pretty bad and Matt had been put into a wheelchair, paralyzed. When I finally came too after a two week long coma, I noticed this tall blond lady there. I got better and stronger, but things were never the same and the lady didn't stop visiting me. She didn't do much besides stare from outside the window and I wondered if she was real. I wondered if anything in this whole damn hospital was real. I knew what I did to us, we would probably never wrestle again.

Today, she was waiting again, outside my window, crossing her arms over her chest, watching me while my heart scrabbled to escape and wrestle again. I should have been paying more attention to keeping it in my chest. My pulse sped and the machines beeped. The lady outside ran to find a nurse. I closed my eyes on the hospital bed. I knew it, I was through being a wrestler. I was done being Lauren Zizes.

_I fell in love with a ghost_  
_Oh, under the moonlight_  
_You took my hand and held me close_  
_For once I was alright_

_I cried and the tears fell from my eyes_  
_Like a waterfall_  
_And I swear I could feel you in my arms_  
_But there was no one there at all_

_You were my clarity, I swear_  
_Alone in a daydream_  
_Yeah there was magic in the air_  
_And you were right here beside me_  
_Held down like an angel with no wings_  
_I wanna fly again_  
_I just can't get you off my mind_  
_And now I'm gonna be up all night_

_Its tearing me up inside_  
_I just can't get you off my mind_

_I tossed and turned in the end_  
_With no one to talk to_  
_I searched again and again_  
_But I never found you_

_I'm gonna be up all night, woah oh oh oh  
I'm gonna be up all night  
I don't wanna say goodbye  
its tearing me up inside  
I just can't get you off my mind  
And now I'm gonna be up all night_

_A whisper on the air  
Made my heart rate fall  
When I heard you call  
And I swear, I could hear your voice in my ear  
But there was no one there at all_

* * *

_Rachel_

"You know," Noah said, "when I told you to call me on the weekend, I didn't mean for you to call me so we could go tramping through the trees in subfreezing temperatures." He frowned at me, looking pale even with his tan skin and oddly at home in these cold spring woods, wearing a black leather jacket with a brown fleece hood that framed his face and his hazel eyes, similar to Quinn's but lacking the twinkle that her's had.

"It's not subfreezing," I said, knocking a cloud of soft snow off the sole of my boot. "All things considered, it's not bad. And you wanted to get out of the house, didn't you?"

It really wasn't bad. It was warm enough that the snow had mostly melted in the areas where the sun could reach, and it was only under the trees that patches remained. The few degrees of extra warmth lent a gentler look to the landscape, infusing the grays of winter with colour. Through the cold still numbed the end of my nose, my fingers were snug inside their gloves.

"You should be leading the way, actually," I said. "You're the one who's seen them here."

These woods that stretched behind the Hudson-Hummel house were unfamiliar to me. A lot of pines and some kind of straight-up-and-down, grey-barked trees that I didn't know. I was sure Quinn would've been able to identify them.

"Well, it's not like I've gone jaunting in the woods after them before," Noah replied, but he walked a little faster until he was walking side by side, separated by a yard or two, stepping over fallen logs and underbrush. "I just know they always appeared on that side of the yard, and I've heard them howl in the direction of the lake."

"Little Hawk Lake?" I asked. "Is that far from here?"

"Feels far," Noah complained. "So what is it we're doing here? Scaring wolves away? Looking for Kurt? If I had known Quinn was going to squeal to you like a little girl about this, I wouldn't have said anything. Scratch that, I would have asked to get in on it."

"Ewwww," I said punching him in the arm. "Be serious, Noah!"

"Okay, okay. Sorry, I got carried away, my Jewish American Princess."

"All of the above," I replied to his earlier question. "Except the squealing bit. Quinn doesn't squeal, plus she's just worried. I don't think that's unreasonable."

"Right. Whatever. Do you think there's a real chance Kurt could've changed already? Because if there's not, maybe we could take a morning stroll back to my car to get a coffee somewhere instead, 'cuz it's hella cold out here right now."

I pushed a branch out of my way and squinted; I thought I could see the shimmer of water through the trees. "Quinn said it's not too early for a new wolf to change, at least for a little bit. When it gets to be a warm snap. Like today. Maybe."

"Okay, but we're getting coffee after we don't find him." Noah pointed. "Look, the lake's up there. Happy?"

"Mmm hmm." I frowned, noticing suddenly that the trees were different than before. Evenly spaced and farther apart, with tangled, soft, relatively new growth for underbrush. I stopped short when I saw colour peeking out of the dull brown thatch at our feet. A crocus – a little finger of purple with an almost hidden throat of yellow. A few inches away, I spied more bright green shoots coming through the old leaves, and two more blossoms. Signs of spring – and, more than that, signs of human occupation – in the middle of the forest. I felt like kneeling to touch the petals of the crocus, to confirm that they were real. But Noah's watchful eyes kept me standing. "What is this place?"

Noah stepped over a branch to stand beside me and looked down at the patch of brave little flowers. "Oh, that. It is probably from back in the glory days when Kurt's mom was alive and had time to care for the house, before she died and stuff. I guess they had a walkway down to the backyard and eventually to this lake and this garden thing here. There are benches by the water and a statue. Finn and I found this after we were out here hanging out one day."

"Can we see it?" I asked, bouncing a little on my toes due to my excitement and fascination of a hidden, overgrown world.

"We're here. There's one of the benches." Noah led me a few feet closer to the pond and kicked a concrete bench with his boot. It was streaked with thin green moss and the occasional flattened bloom of orange lichen, and I might have noticed it without Noah's direction. Once I knew where to look, however, it was easy to see what the shape of the sitting area had been – there was another bench a few feet away, and a small statue of a woman with her hands brought up to her mouth as if she was in awe, her face pointed toward the lake. More flower bulbs, their shoots bright green and rubbery-looking, poked up around the statue's base and the benches, and I saw a few more crocuses in the patchy snow beyond.

Beside me, Noah scuffed his foot through the leaves. "And look, down here. This stone under here. Like a patio or something, I guess. I found it last year before Finn was attacked."

I kicked at the leaves like he did, and sure enough, my toe scuffed stone. Our true purpose momentarily forgotten, I scraped at the leaves, uncovering a wet, dirty patch of ground. "Noah, this isn't just stone. Look. It's a mosaic. Look at the patterns." There were many shades and colours, obviously, the stones had lost much of their colour and many were chipped. But at some point, it would have been beautiful with its complicated swirling patterns. I knelt and scraped a few of the stones bare with a stick. They were mostly natural coloured, but there were a few chips of brilliant blue or red tiles in there as well. I uncovered more of the mosaic, revealing a swirling pattern with a smiling, archaic-looking sun in the middle. It made me feel odd, this shining face hidden under matted rotting leaves. "Quinn would love this," I said.

"Where is she?"

"Checking out the woods behind Sue's house. She should've come with us." I could already picture the curve over her eyebrows, close over her hazel eyes, as she saw the mosaic and the statue for the first time. This was the sort of thing Quinn lived for. And object beneath the bench before me caught my attention, however, pulling me back to the real world. A slender, dull white…bone. I reached out and picked it up, looking at the gnaw marks on it. As I did, I realized there were more scattered around the bench, half buried in the leaves. Pushed partway underneath the bench was a glass bowl, stained and chipped, but obviously no antique. It took me only half a moment to realize what it was. I stood up and faced Noah.

"You've been feeding them, haven't you?" Noah pursed his lips together, looking petulant and didn't answer. I retrieved the bowl and shook out the two leaves that lay curled in the bottom of it. "What have you been feeding them?"

"Babies." Noah deadpanned.

I gave him my version of the famous Fabray raised eyebrow that I had picked up from Quinn. "Meat. I'm not an idiot. And only when it was really cold. For all I know, the stupid raccoons have been eating it." He sounded defiant – angry, almost.

I had been planning to goad him about his hidden compassion, he was adamant about being a badass after all, but the raw edge to his voice made me stop. Instead I joked, "Or carnivorous deer. Looking to add some protein to their diet."

Noah smiled a small smile; it quirked slightly to the side, it looked more like a smirk like he used to do when Finn was still alive. "I thought Bigfoot, perhaps," he joked back.

We both jumped as a high-pitched cry, like an eerie laugh, came from the lake, followed by a splash.

"Fucking hell," Noah said with a slight jump.

I took a deep breath. "A loon. We scared it."

"Wildlife is overrated. Anyway, I don't think Kurt's near here if _we_ scared the loon. I think a wolf changing into a boy would be a little louder than we're being." I had to admit his theory made sense. And the fact was that I still wasn't sure how we were going to handle Kurt's sudden return to Lima, so a tiny part of me was relieved. "So we can go get coffee now? Although I would kill for something stronger than that."

I slapped Noah to which he squealed and pouted at me. I laughed, "I thought you were bad ass and everything and you squealed over little old me slapping you." He crossed his arms and pouted harder. "Okay, let's go get your coffee." I replied, letting him off the hook.

We moved across the hidden patio toward the lake. Once you knew the mosaic was underneath your feet, it was easy to feel how unforgiving the surface was; how unlike the natural forest floor. I walked over to stand by the statue of the woman and pressed my fingers to my lips when I saw the view. It wasn't until after I'd taken in the still lake framed by the naked trees and the black-headed loon floating on its surface that I realized I was unconsciously mimicking the statue's look of eternal wonder. "Have you seen this?"

Noah joined me. "Nature," he said dismissively. "Buy postcards and stop wasting time. Let's go."

But my gaze drifted downward to the forest floor. My heart sped. "Noah," I whispered, frozen.

On the other side of the stature, a wolf was lying in the leaves, its gray pelt nearly the same colour as the dead foliage. I could just see the edge of its black nose and the curve of one of its ears rising out of the leaves.

"It's dead," Noah said, not bothering to whisper. "Look, there's a leaf just sitting on it. It's been dead awhile."

My heart was still thumping; I had to remind myself that Kurt had become a white wolf, not gray. And that Quinn was a girl, safely trapped in her human body. This wolf couldn't be either of them. But it could be Sue. Kurt and Quinn were the only ones that mattered to me but Sue would matter to Quinn. Sue was a grey wolf, Santana would matter to Quinn too but she was a brown-black wolf and Brittany was a whitish-blonde wolf. _Please don't be Sue._

Swallowing, I knelt next to it while Noah stood beside me and shuffled in the leaves. Carefully plucking the leaf that covered part of the wolf's face, I felt the coarse fur brush the side of my hand, even though I was wearing my gloves. I watched the banded grey, black and white hairs keep moving for a second after I lifted my palm. Then I gently opened the half-lidded eye on the side closest to me. A dull gray eye, very unwolflike, stared at some place far beyond me. Not Sue's eye.

Relieved, I rocked back on my heels and looked at Noah.

We simultaneously said to each other, "I wonder who it was."

Noah said, "I wonder what killed it."

I ran my hands over the length of its body – the wolf lay on its side, front legs crossed, back legs crossed, tail spread out behind it like a flag at half-mast.

I bit my lip, then said, "I don't see any blood."

"Turn it over," Noah suggested.

Gently, I took the wolf's legs and flipped it onto its other side; the body was only a little stiff – despite the leaf that had dropped onto its face, the wolf hadn't been dead long. I winced in anticipation of a gruesome discovery. But there was no visible injury on the other side either. "Maybe it was old age," I said.

"The wolf doesn't look old," Noah said.

"Quinn said that the wolves die after about fifteen years of shifting back and forth," I said. "Maybe that's what happened."

I lifted the wolf's muzzle to see if I could spot any telltale gray or white hairs on it. I heard Noah's disgusted noise before I saw the reason for it. Dried red blood stained the wolf's muzzle – I thought it might be from a previous kill, until I realized that the side of the wolf's jaw that had been resting on the ground was caked with blood too. It was the wolf's blood.

I swallowed again, feeling a little sick after touching the dead animal. I didn't really want Noah thinking I was queasy, though, so I said, "Hit by a car and came here?"

Noah made a noise in the back of his throat, either disgust or contempt. "No. Look at the nose."

He was right; there were twin trails of blood coming from the wolf's nostrils, running down to join the old smear across the lips. I couldn't seem to stop looking at it. If Noah hadn't been there, I don't know how long I would've crouch there, its muzzle in my hands, looking at this wolf – this person – who had died with his own blood crusted on his face. But Noah was there. So I laid the wolf's face carefully back onto the ground. With one gloved finger, I stroked the smooth hair on the side of wolf's face. Morbidly, I wanted to look at the other side again, the bloody one.

"Do you think there was something wrong with it?" I asked.

"Ya think?" Noah replied. Then he shrugged. "Could just be a nosebleed. Do wolves get nosebleeds? They can make you yak if you look up when you have one." My stomach was tight with misgiving. "Rachel. Come one. Head trauma could do that, too. Or animals picking at it after it died. Or any number of disgusting things to think about before lunch. Point is, it's dead. The end."

I looked at the lifeless gray eye. "Maybe we should bury it."

"_Maybe_ we can have coffee first," Noah said.

I stood up, brushing the dirt off my knees. I had the nagging feeling you get when you leave something undone, a prickling anxiety. Maybe Quinn would know more. I kept my voice light and said "_Okay_. Let's go get warmed up and I'll call Quinn. She can come look at it afterward."

"Wait," Noah said. He got out his cell phone, aimed it at the wolf, and clicked a photo. "Let's try using our brains. Welcome to technology, Rachel."

I looked at the screen on his phone. The wolf's face glazed with blood in real life, looked ordinary and unharmed through the cell phone's view. If I hadn't seen the wolf in the flesh, I would've never known there was anything wrong.

* * *

_Quinn_

I had been sitting at Breadstix's for about fifteen minutes, watching the waitress attending to the customers in the other booths like a bee visiting and revisiting flowers, when Rachel tapped on the other side of the streaked glass. She was a backlit silhouette against the bright blue sky, and I could just glimpse the slender white of her smile and saw her kiss the air at me before she and Puckerman headed around to the front of the diner.

A moment later, Rachel, her nose and cheeks slightly pink against her tan complexion from the cold, slid onto the cracked red booth beside, her woolen tights and short skirt squelching on the perpetually greasy surface.

She was about to touch my face before she kissed me, and I recoiled. "What? Do I stink?" she asked, not sounding particularly bothered. She laid her cell phone and car keys on the table in front of her and reached across me for the menus by the wall.

Leaning away, I pointed to her gloves. "You do, actually. Your gloves smell like that wolf. Not in a good way."

"Thanks for the backup, wolf-girl," Puck said. When Rachel offered him a menu, he shook his head emphatically and added, "The whole car smelled like wet dog."

I wasn't sure about the wet-dog label; yes, I smelled the normal, musky wolf odour on Rachel's gloves, but there was something else to it - an unpleasant undercurrent that rankled my still-heightened sense of smell.

Rachel said, "Sheesh, I'll put them in the car. You don't have to give me that about-to-hurl look. If the waitress comes, order me a soy vanilla latte and something from their vegan menu, okay?"

While she was gone, Puck and I sat in a kind of uneasy silence filled by a Journey song playing overhead and clattering of plates in the kitchen. I studied the shape of the saltshaker's warped shadow across the container of sugar packets. Puck examined the chunky cuff of his sweater and the way it rested on the table.

Finally, he said, "You made another bird thing."

I picked up the crane that I'd folded out of my napkin while I was waiting. It was lumpy and imperfect because the napkins hadn't been quite square. "Yeah."

"Why?"

I rubbed my nose, trying to get rid of the scent of the wolf. "I don't know. There's a Japanese legend that if you fold one thousand paper cranes, you get a wish."

Noah quirked his eyebrow and wiggled them seductively, "You can get a wish, eh?"

"No," I said, as Rachel sat back down beside me. "All of my wishes have already been granted."

"What were you wishing for?" Rachel interrupted.

"To kiss you," I said to her.

She leaned toward me, offering her neck, and I kissed her just behind her ear, pretending I couldn't still smell the almond scent of the wolf on her skin. Puck's eyes narrowed, though his lips stayed curved up, and I knew that somehow, he had seen my reaction.

I looked away as the waitress came and took our order. Rachel ordered a soy vanilla latte and a vegan friendly pasta. I got the soup of the day which happened to be bacon cream of broccoli and a BLT and a tea. Noah ordered coffee along with the typical Western breakfast: bacon with sausages and eggs and toast. Rachel scoffed at all the dead animals that went into making Noah and I's meal and took my napkin crane; she made it flap its wings.

"So, Quinn, what's the deal on this corpse, anyway? Rachel said that you said something about wolves getting fifteen years after they stop shifting."

"Nice, Noah," Rachel muttered, casting a sideways glance at me to see what my expression was at the word _corpse. _But she'd already told me over the phone that the wolf wasn't Sue, my father or mother or Ulrik, so I didn't react.

Noah shrugged, unapologetic, and slid his finger across the unlock button of his phone. He pushed it across the table to me. "Visual aid number one." The phone scrapped across invisible crumbs on the table as I spun it right side up.

My stomach gripped in a fist when I saw the wolf on the screen, clearly dead, but my grief lacked force, I had never known this wolf as a human. "I think you're right," I said. "Because I've only ever known this wolf as a wolf. It must've been from old age."

"I don't think this was a natural death," said Rachel. "Plus, there were no white hairs on the muzzle."

I lifted my shoulders. "I just know what Sue told me. That we get…got" – I struggled with tense, since I wasn't one of them anymore – "ten or fifteen years after we stopped shifting. A wolf's natural life span."

"There was blood coming out of the wolf's nose and mouth," Rachel said almost angrily, like it annoyed her to say it. I slanted the screen back and forth, squinting at the muzzle. I didn't see anything on the blurry screen to suggest a violent death. "It wasn't a lot though," Rachel said, in response to my raised eyebrow and frown. "Did any of the other wolves that died ever have blood on their faces?"

I struggled to remember the various wolves that had died while I was living in Sue's house. It was a blur of memories – Sue and my mother and Ulrik with tarps and shovels, Ulrik singing "for He's a Jolly Good Fellow" at the top of his lungs. "I don't really remember any of them clearly. Maybe this wolf got knocked in the head."

I deliberately didn't allow myself to think about the person behind the wolf's pelt. Rachel didn't say anything else as the waitress set down our drinks and food. For a long moment there was silence as I doctored my tea and Noah did the same to his coffee after he finished leering at the waitress. Rachel studied her vegan pasta pensively.

Puck said, "For a crappy restaurant, Breadstix at least hires banging waitresses."

Part of me appreciated the fact that he didn't even _look_ to see if the waitress was within earshot before he said it – the sheer insensitivity was somehow rewarding to watch. But most of me was glad that I was sitting next to Rachel instead, who shot Puck a look that said _Sometimes I don't know why I hang out with you._

"Uh-oh," I said, glimpsing the opening door. "Incoming." It was Carol Hudson-Hummel, Finn's mother and basically Kurt's adoptive mother. I wasn't really looking forward to talking to her, and at first it appeared that I wouldn't have to, because Carol didn't seem to see us. She went straight to the counter and pulled out a stool, before she ordered, the waitress brought her a coffee.

"She looks terrible," Puck observed.

"Noah," hissed Rachel. "Maybe turn down the insensitivity meter slightly?"

Puck pursed his lips. "What? Kurt's not dead."

"I'm going to go ask her to come over and sit with us," Rachel said.

"Oh, no, please don't," I said. "It's going to involve lying, and I'm not good at that."

"But I am," Rachel said. "Albeit, I think it's wrong ethically, at least all those acting classes help more than just for acting. Besides, she looks pitiful. I'll be right back."

And so she returned a minute later with Carol and slid back in next to me. Carol stood at the end of the table, looking slightly uncomfortable as Noah waited just a moment too long to make room for her on his side of the booth.

"So how are you?" Rachel asked sympathetically, leaning her elbows on the table.

I might have been imagining the leading tone to her voice, but I didn't think so. I'd heard that sound before, when she asked a question she already knew the answer to, and liked what she knew. Burt glanced at Puck, who was leaning away from her, in a fairly tactless way, arm against the windowsill.

Then she leaned towards me and Rachel. "I got an email from Kurt."

"An e-mail?" Rachel echoed. Her voice conveyed just the right combination of hope, disbelief and frailty. Just what you'd expect from a grieving girl who was hoping her best friend was still alive. Only Rachel knew Kurt _was _still alive. I shot her a look. Rachel ignored me, still looking, all innocent and intense, at Carol. "What did it say?"

"That he was in Dayton. That he was coming home soon!" Carol threw her hands up. "I didn't know what I should do. How could he do this to Burt and me, especially after what happened with Finn? And he gets off with acting like he just went off to visit friends and now he's done. I mean I'm happy but I am so angry at him" She sat back in her seat, looking a little surprised that she'd confessed so much.

I crossed my arms and leaned on the table. "But when?" Rachel pressed. "When did he say he would get back?"

Carol shrugged. "Of course he didn't say anything other than 'soon.'"

Rachel's eyes shone. "But he's _alive_."

"Yeah," Carol said, and now I saw that her eyes were rather shiny as well. "The cops told us that – you know, that we shouldn't keep our hopes up – anyway. That was the worst, not know if he was alive."

"Speaking of the cops," Noah said. "Did you show them the email?"

Rachel briefly turned a less-than-pleasant face to Noah, but it had melted back into gentle interest by the time Carol turned back to her. She looked guilty. "I didn't want them to tell me about how it might not be real. I guess – I guess I will. Because they can track it, right?"

"Yes," Noah said, looking at Rachel instead of at Carol. "I've heard cops can track IP addresses or whatever they're called. So they could find out the general area it was coming from. Like maybe even _right here in Lima_."

In a hard voice, Rachel replied. "But if it was from an Internet café from a pretty big city, like Dayton, it wouldn't really be useful."

Carol interrupted, "I don't know if I want Kurt dragged back here, kicking and screaming. I mean maybe he was worried about us kicking him out because… well, Rachel, you know. Because he was gay and all. I don't think he knew that I knew. But I knew since Burt told me when he was really young because he kept asking for high heeled shoes for his birthday. I'm not sure Burt knows but I figured it out and I've kept his secrets. Plus he's almost eighteen now, and not stupid. I miss him, but he must have been really scared that I would have sent him away."

We all stared at her – for different reasons, I think. I was just thinking that it was an awfully perceptive and selfless thing to say, if slightly uninformed. Noah's stare looked more like an _are-you-a-total-idiot?_ Stare. Rachel's was admiring. "You're a pretty good mother," Rachel said.

Carol looked down into her coffee cup. "Yeah, well, I don't know about that. Anyway, I'd better get going. I'm just on my way out of town." She slid out of the booth, pulling a few bucks out of her pocket for the coffee.

"Would you give this to the waitress?"

"Yup," Rachel said. "Take care, Carol."

Carol nodded and retreated. She had only been out of Breadstix for a moment when Noah slid back into the center to face Rachel. "Wow, Rachel, did you forget your brain at home or something?"

Noah said. "Because that's the only way I can figure you would do something this fucking stupid."

I wouldn't have put it in those terms, but I was thinking the same thing.

Rachel waved it off. "_Psh_. I sent it the last time I was in Dayton. I wanted to give them some hope. And I actually thought it might keep the cops from looking so hard for him if they thought it was an annoying almost-legal runaway instead of a possible homicide-kidnapping thing. See I _was_ using my brain."

Noah said, "Well I think you should stay out of it. Quinn, tell her to stay out of it."

The whole idea of it did make me uneasy, but I said. "Rachel is very wise."

"Rachel is very wise," Rachel repeated to Noah.

"Generally," I added.

"Maybe we should tell her," Rachel said. Noah and I stared at her. "What? She's his adoptive mother. She cares for him and wants him to be happy. Plus. I don't understand all the secrecy if it's scientific. Yeah, the greater world would definitely take it the wrong way. But family members? You'd think they'd be better about it, if it's just logical instead of monstrous."

I didn't really have words for the horror that the idea inspired in me. Plus adding to the fact that Kurt's father Burt was the one who had it out for us wolves.

"Quinn," Noah said, and I realized I was just sitting there, running a finger over one of my scarred wrists. Noah looked at Rachel. "Rachel, that is one of the dumbest ideas I have ever heard, unless your goal is to get Kurt rushed to the nearest microscope for poking and prodding. Also, Carol is clearly too highly strung to handle the concept."

This, at least made sense to me. I nodded. "I don't think she's a good one to tell, Rachel."

"You told Noah!"

"We had to," I said, before Noah could finish looking superior. "He had already guessed a lot of it. I think we should operate on a need-to-know basis."

Rachel was starting to get her blank face, which meant that she was getting annoyed, so I said, "But I still think you're very wise. Generally."

"Generally," repeated Noah. "Now I'm getting out of here. I'm bored of all the ladies in here. I'm like a sex shark, if I stop moving and having sex then I'll die."

"Noah," I said, as he got up, and he stopped at the end of the table, giving me this weird look, as if I hadn't called him by name before. "I'm going to bury him. The wolf. Maybe today, if the ground's not frozen."

"No hurry," Noah said. "It's not going anywhere."

As Rachel leaned in toward me, I caught another whiff of the rotten smell. I wished I'd looked more closely at the photo on Noah's phone. I wished the nature of the wolf's death had been more straightforward. I'd had enough mysteries for a lifetime.

_I keep wondering but I don't know_

_B-b-b-b-break it, oh, la-la-la-lady_  
_You are really like a question I don't know, what are you?_  
_Why are you like this to me?_  
_Why do you make it hard on me?_

_You tell me, tell me why (why) you show me, show me why (why)_  
_Why are you like this? Why are you like this to me? why_  
_You tell me, tell me why (why) you show me, show me why (why)_

_You are really a mystery mystery girl  
Mystery mystery scene  
Mystery mystery love  
When I start getting to know you I don't know_

_I'm about to burst and go crazy  
I need to hold it in because this is your plan  
Well maybe not, but you are really the ain't no girl  
Even though I ponder I don't know_

* * *

Songs:

Up All Night ~ Owl City

Mystery ~ Beast (originally in Korean)


End file.
